Renée Zellweger

Sometimes a girl can be so beautiful that it takes your breath away. That just happened to me.

I was listening to the soundtrack to Me, Myself and Irene and, even though I have listened to it a couple of times now, I hadn't paid any attention to the CD box. I just open 'em up and pop 'em in; you know? I lost interest in album covers back when Jackson Browne's For Everyman kept getting snagged every time I'd put it back in the stack, due to the inset photo.

Well, hell; you don't care about that, do you? Jackson Browne was OK, but he was no looker.

What I'm talking about is beauty that will just make you clutch your chest and beg for air. Yeah, I know this is all subjective. Why the hell you think I'm trying to convey this to you? If you all felt the same about the way this girl looks, what would be the use? I might as well be telling you that water's good when you're thirsty, right? Shut up. You're distracting me.

I can't pinpoint it, but I think it has something to do with that face that says, "You're bullshitting me, aren't you?" (Ooops. Might have given something really secret away there. Forget that.)

It's that face that says, "I want to believe you, but I can't be sure." (Well, hell. That's the same secret, eh?)

OK, I guess I'll just face the Freudian facts here. Here's the raw truth and don't blame me for it being so.

This is the perfect embodiment of the babyfaced blonde that will get in your car, even though she knows it's a very, very bad idea.

We're all some evil bastards. You girls knew that already, didn't you?